


Someone Like You

by Miss_Voltage



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Blood Kink, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Choking, Handcuffs, Knife Play, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 06:27:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3885847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Voltage/pseuds/Miss_Voltage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky finds Steve first. He's not sure who Steve is, or who he really is himself. All he knows is what he needs, and all those needs are found in Steve. But... Who the hell is Bucky?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someone Like You

**Author's Note:**

> This is set about three days after Captain America: The Winter Soldier ends in the MCU timeline. I give much credit, once again, to stereowire.tumblr.com for her amazing art which inspired a few scenes in this story.  
> PLEASE NOTE: I am not tagging this with graphic depictions of violence. Please see the tags I did include, such as knife play and blood play. It is much more kink than violence, but be aware that there is some violent play here.

It was unusually cool that night, but the sky was dark even with the city’s light pollution. Steve hadn’t been out of the hospital for very long, and while he didn’t ache and wasn’t taking it terribly easy, he tried to get back into the swing of things. The first thing he’d wanted to do after seeing Natasha and Fury off was find Bucky. But so much of the intelligence community worldwide had been destroyed, and short of punching his way through Russia until he found some answers, there wasn’t much he could do at the moment. Still, he didn’t like to be idle. He didn’t want to be around anyone really, either. Sam tried to see him, but he could feel the disapproval in Sam’s look. Sam knew what he was doing. Sam just didn’t know the depth.

He’d taken to riding his motorcycle late into the night, every night. Training for him was therapy. It was when he thought everything out. When he rode through the city, the wind whipping against him, the leather of his jacket pulling in his body heat, it was utter blankness. All he thought about were the sensations around him, the feeling of the air, the scent of the asphalt, the street lights he passed. The nothingness that happened to his thoughts of past or present when he rode was a bliss he desperately needed.

He pulled up to the side of his apartment building, parking his bike and shutting it off. It was nearly three in the morning so he tried to be quiet as he walked up to the fourth floor. He vaguely looked at Sharon’s door as he passed it. It was somewhat comforting to know that he wasn’t being watched by SHIELD at the moment. He wasn’t naïve enough to think that no one was watching him, especially with all that had transpired after the last week. Steve pulled out his keys and unlocked his door, heading inside. He slid off his jacket, hanging it up with his keys on the knobs hooked into the wall. He wanted a shower, to just stand in hot water and try to forget about the bad times, about the nightmares that would plague him when he finally fell asleep.

When he reached his living room, he suddenly tensed. His shield was across the room from him, far too close to the figure covered in darkness, sitting perched on his window sill. The man didn’t even seem to acknowledge him, just bringing a lit cigarette to his lips and inhaling, the glowing embers of the cherry brightening. Steve watching as he slowly exhaled the acrid smoke. Neither of them said anything for nearly a minute, just knowing the other was there, feeling out the situation.

“You’ve been looking for me. I guess I found you first.” Bucky remarked, still looking out at the deserted streets of D.C. Steve cocked his hip and leaned against the wall. Bucky didn’t seem to want to kill him. The last thing he remembered about Bucky was fighting with him in the helicarrier. He distinctly remembered seeing emotion cross his face, emotion that was entirely James Buchanan Barnes and not the Winter Soldier. That wasn’t the only thing keeping Steve from taking a defensive stance. He would if he had to, if there was no hope left, but seeing Bucky on his window ledge filled him with more hope than he had thought possible.

“It doesn’t take much to find out where I live. You can find out for twenty bucks in this neighborhood.” Steve tried to joke a little, trying so desperately to turn the situation away from the darkness he knew was going to engulf them if they spoke. Bucky sucked down more of his cigarette, exhaling through his nose, still mostly covered by the shadows. “Don’t you know who I am? I’m an assassin,” he scoffed.

Steve stepped forward into the room, slowly approaching into the darkness. “I know who you are, Buck. I’ve known you your whole life. Knowing you’re alive is better than any dream I’ve ever had. We can fix things. We can get you back…” He stopped a few feet away from Bucky, watching him flick the spent cigarette out onto the ground. He could feel more than see Bucky finally turn and look at him. “Fix me? You think you can fix me? You don’t understand anything if that’s what you think. You don’t know shit. The things I’ve done… I can’t even remember most of them. I just know I’m bad, through and through, and you’re trying to tell me there was a time I wasn’t, that there was a time you knew me…” He looked away again. “I remember little things, things about you, us,” he whispered.

Steve reached to the lamp between the two of them and pulled the chain, illuminating the small room they were in. He swallowed hard when he saw Bucky. He was wearing civilian clothes, jeans, boots, a white t-shirt, and a grey zip-up hoodie. It was his face that caught him, though. His face and neck were scruffy with dark hair, his skin pale, and his eyes heavy with deep dark circles. It was Bucky’s eyes that really killed him. He’d learned to read them so long ago and he could see it all. Confusion, worry, and deep sadness. It killed him to see Bucky like this even more than it had killed him when Bucky hadn’t known him.

Bucky looked straight at him, searchingly, desperately trying to remember. He knew Steve’s face, knew it in a way that warmed him with familiarity, but he couldn’t place too much. Steve wanted to ask if Bucky had come with intentions to fight. At this point, he would have just let Bucky kill him. He couldn’t fight him again, and if he had to die, at least he got to see Bucky one more time. He went to the couch next to Bucky and sat down sideways on the cushion furthest from him, giving him space, not trying to force anything. “What do you remember?” 

He watched as a haunted look came over Bucky, his face checking out as he searched the farthest corners of his mind for anything relevant to his past, anything that wasn’t utter violence and pain. “Small things. Some things are slivers of memory. Some things are vibrant. I can feel them more than see them.” He sighed, looking down at his hands, wondering for the millionth time what he was. Steve wanted so badly to reach out to him but he wasn’t sure what kind of reaction that would garner. He was terrified that something he might do or say would cause Bucky to slip back into Winter Soldier.

“I got your file, read what they did to you. Bucky, none of that stuff is your fault. They used you.” Steve tried, needing to comfort the man that was his best friend. Bucky didn’t even look at him, enough silence passing between them that Steve had started to wonder if he’d heard him before he suddenly spoke. “You would feel responsible, though, wouldn’t you? I’m not you. I’m a monster.”

Steve leaned forward on the couch, nearly crawling toward Bucky as his hands gripped the cushions. “You’re not a monster. You’re my friend. You’re the man I’ve admired my whole life. You’re the man I mourned every day we were apart. You’re the man that… that…” He paused, not able to get the words out of his throat.

“That what?” Bucky ground out, sounding angry. Now that there was light in the room, Steve could easily see the aggressive look he was being pinned with. He thought if he was just honest, if he told Bucky the truth and showed him true emotion, maybe Bucky would come back. Just maybe, Bucky would remember things, anything, and separate himself from the ghost he had become.

Steve sat back on his heels, now close enough to Bucky that if he were to attack, he would go down quick. He swallowed hard, steeling his gaze and looking at Bucky with all the courage he could muster. “You’re the man I fell in love with when I was fourteen.”

Bucky growled and launched forward suddenly, grabbing Steve’s upper arms and pinning him to the couch as he toppled him back. “You… I remember you. I protected you!” He screamed, looking like he was about to strangle Steve. Steve didn’t struggle in the hold. He could throw Bucky off, but his main goal right now was wrangling him and getting him back, even if he got beaten to death as he tried.

“You were always there. I got in a lot of fights and you pulled me out when I got in over my head. It’s my turn to protect you now, Bucky. It’s okay.” He tried, speaking evenly, trying to seem calm. This was more than he had ever been prepared to deal with, but he had to try, more for Bucky than himself. He still blamed himself for Bucky’s near death and would every day he was alive.

Bucky slapped him across the face with his real arm, the arm having healed easily once he got it back in its socket. He watched Steve wince and didn’t feel any remorse for the pain he’d caused. “Shut up! You idiot! I was protecting you from me!” His voice hadn’t lowered a bit and the thought that someone might call the police on them for the commotion never crossed his mind. He wasn’t easily caught, anyway.

He watched as Steve looked at him with confusion, trying to work it out in his mind. “How could you have protected me? You were in cryofreeze every time they weren’t using you. You didn’t even know-“ Steve groaned as he was hit in the mouth again, his lip splitting slightly. Bucky looked down at him and Steve wasn’t sure if he had ever seen such anger in his eyes. 

“You never had any idea, did you? I was protecting you back then, when I wasn’t this… thing, when I was him. I was protecting you from me because I wanted you too much. That’s what I remember more than anything else, that I knew if I ever did the things I wanted to do to you, I’d hurt you.” He suddenly pulled back, looking at his own hands as if shocked. “Now look at me,” he said quietly. The more he talked to Steve, the more he started to remember about different times of his past, some much darker than others.

Steve sat up slowly, looking at Bucky as he stared intently at the carpet. “What were you gonna do to me, Bucky?” He asked. Bucky didn’t seem to register him at all until he felt Steve’s hand gently on his face, turning their eyes to meet. He felt confused by the touch. He didn’t remember touches that weren’t painful. 

“What were you gonna do, Buck?” Steve asked again, this time much softer. Bucky looked at him, and Steve saw that fear. “Everything. Anything you’d let me,” Bucky whispered. “But I’m not him anymore. This time I’d really hurt you.”

Steve slowly wound his fingers in Bucky’s hair gently, touching him with great care, both because he didn’t want to startle him and also because he needed him. He looked up at Bucky for a minute before his eyes flickered to his lips momentarily. “I’d let you,” he said quietly. He watched Bucky watch him and pulled him down slowly until their lips met. Steve kissed him square on the mouth but frowned when Bucky didn’t respond for a minute. 

He pulled back to see if Bucky had checked out again only to find wide blue eyes staring back at him. Steve looked a little hurt and felt immensely guilty. Maybe Bucky was too damaged to do anything but desperately try to grip the current reality. He sighed, resting his hands on his hips and looking down. He was an idiot.

Steve was not prepared for Bucky to suddenly tackle him. They fell back onto the couch but missed it slightly, Bucky toppling to the ground and taking Steve with him. Bucky was fast, rolling over and laying over Steve before he knew what was happening. He was glad Steve hesitated in shoving him off or taking a defensive stance because it made it much easier for him to seal their mouths again, kissing him in a way that was so desperate, biting and licking and sucking at his mouth in all the ways he couldn’t hold back anymore.

Nothing made sense in his head. There were too many fractions of memories, but nothing burned brighter than Steve, nothing came close. Bucky felt real emotions for the first time in decades, things more than anguish and confusion, outer pain turned inward. When he looked at Steve, he felt warm with familiarity. Feeling Steve against him was like seeing the stars in the night sky after a storm.

He heard Steve moan into his mouth and it filled him with desire. But even as the man he had been, Bucky’s desires were dark. He forced himself between Steve legs, moving their bodies together as they attacked each other’s mouths. Bucky licked Steve’s split lip and loomed over him, his shaggy hair hanging down. “Do you want me and everything that comes with that?” He asked, needing to know that if this happened, everything was Steve’s choice.

Steve licked his lips, trying to get the air back that Bucky had stolen. “Yes,” he consented. He was okay with a little pain that might come with getting to have Bucky. He was actually more than okay with it. It was something he’d experienced very little before and needed again. Maybe he was a good man, maybe he was a beacon of freedom, but he was still a person with needs, desires, and even darkness.

Bucky grabbed Steve by the shoulder with his metal arm and dragged him to the middle of the room, laying him up against a support beam. “Put your hands above your head.” He said, pulling a pair of metal handcuffs out of his pocket. Steve, even while moving his arms up to grip the beam, looked at him questioningly. “Why did you bring those?” He asked. Bucky looked at him with no hint of remorse. “Because I was either going to beat the shit out of you, or fuck the shit out of you. Either way works for me. I assume this is what you’d prefer.”

He scooted above Steve, securing the cuffs around his wrists and giving a little tug. He was almost completely certain Steve couldn’t pull through a support beam but he was willing to hold him down if he had to. Steve looked more than a little apprehensive when Bucky came back to him so he kissed him again, taking his mouth and not being soft in the slightest. He liked the way Steve panted into his mouth, already pulling at the cuffs like he wanted to touch him. Bucky was making up enough for the both of them, touching Steve all over, beginning to claim this man as his.

His metal fingers gripped Steve’s white tee and ripped it off as easily as tissue paper. He liked the way Steve looked up at him with desire but also almost challengingly. He didn’t really feel guilt anymore as there was no need for it in his current life, but there was a sort of nagging inside his mind. “Don’t hurt him,” it said over and over. Bucky’s damaged mind reformatted the thought. “Don’t hurt him more than he wants.”

He nipped and licked down Steve’s neck, tasting his skin, vaguely remembering the desperate want for that. Bucky bit into his thick pectoral, almost hard enough to break the skin, hearing Steve make a grunt of pain, deep teeth marks clearly evident. But still, Steve didn’t want to stop. “Keep going,” he begged.

Bucky didn’t even look at him, biting Steve’s ribs before swiping over the marks with his tongue. The need to constantly taste Steve was driving him crazy. He needed this almost as desperately as he needed to feel familiarity again that wasn’t entirely terrible. He could hear Steve’s slightly labored breaths and he wanted more sounds.

He suddenly pulled back and stood, looking down at Steve for a moment before he began to remove his own clothing. Steve watched as Bucky shucked off his jacket and toed off his boots. He grabbed his shirt at the bottom edge and pulled it over his head, dropping it, showing off the robotic metal arm that was now permanently attached to him, a part of him that had changed everything, a part of him that may have even rivaled Steve’s power.

Looking at Steve again, Bucky realized that Steve wasn’t looking at his arm, or even his face. Steve was looking at his pants and his chest was rising and falling with anticipation. Bucky watched Steve lick his lips unconsciously as his hands went to his fly, pulling it down, dropping them to the floor, and stepping out of them, leaving him naked. He reached over to his boot, pulling a long knife out of a side sheath and approaching Steve, dropping back to his knees in front of him.

Steve didn’t even notice the knife until it was waved in front of him. “You’re not particularly attached to these pants, are you?” Bucky asked rhetorically. Steve shook his head slowly. The knife was fairly sharp, but Bucky was skilled enough and more than strong enough to cut through thick denim easily. He wedged it between Steve’s skin and clothing, cutting a line all the way down to his ankle before doing the same thing to the other side, pulling off the tattered fabric when he was done.

Bucky flipped the knife in his hand, looking down at Steve who was staring at him intently. In a flash, the blade of the knife was pressed against Steve’s neck, above his Adam’s apple. Steve’s breath hitched as Bucky leaned over him, watching him assessingly. “Are you afraid of me?” He asked. “No,” Steve said surely, gasping slightly as the knife was pressed harder against his skin. “Are you afraid of this?” Bucky asked, waiting for a response that Steve seemed reluctant to give. “Or is it that you like this?” He wondered. Steve swallowed as carefully as he could. “Both.” He whispered.

He removed the knife somewhat, trailing the flat side of it over Steve’s neck slowly up to his cheek. “There’s darkness in me that you’ll never know, but you’re not pure either.” He said softly. Bucky slowly trailed the sharp edge of the knife from the apple of Steve’s cheek to the top of his cheek bone, a shallow cut just deep enough to drip a little onto his face. Bucky flicked out his tongue, licking up a tiny trail of blood. 

The cut was so clean and shallow that Steve barely felt it. He wondered if Bucky was here under the guise of pleasing him and was just intent on hurting him, but that deep trust and hope he had that this was still Bucky didn’t let him put too much energy into that thought. The way Bucky looked at him made him nervous… but it wasn’t really nerves, more so an anticipation. Bucky had never touched him before more than playful shoves, hugs, and the like. 

Having so much attention focused on him from Bucky and the way Bucky was staring at him excited Steve in a way he knew he shouldn’t be feeling. But this was Bucky, and he wanted whatever he had to give. He watched Bucky lick his lips and Steve wanted to pull him down and kiss him hard, but his hands were still chained. He almost regretted agreeing to that, partially because he wanted to touch Bucky and partially because he actually liked it.

“Who else sees you like this?” Bucky asked, twirling the knife again. Steve looked at him questioningly. “What do you mean?” He asked, watching Bucky just stare at him with intentions he couldn’t read. “Uh, no one. No one sees me without clothes. I’m not, uh… I’m not seeing anyone right now,” he said warily. Bucky nodded, moving to sit over Steve’s stomach, looking over the expanse of blank canvas he had in front of him.

“Right now, you’re mine, and you’ll be mine until these wounds heal because you won’t forget me, ever. And when you think those cuts are all closed up, you’ll come looking for me, because you’ll want more.” Bucky promised him. He held the knife between his thumb and palm and stroked the fingers of both hands slowly down Steve’s chest, feeling the ripple of strong muscle.

“I like you like this,” Bucky said absently, looking at Steve’s skin. “How? Bigger?” Steve asked, trying to hide his slightly bitter tone. He wondered if Bucky hadn’t been forward before because he’d been too small and weak, unappealing at best. Bucky shook his head, pulling the knife forth again. “Eager.”

He didn’t wait, leaning over Steve and pressing he blade of the knife to his skin. There was no doubt that Bucky was strong and it was easy enough to cut anyone, but the knife was very sharp, and it needed to be for this. He set his sights on Steve’s other pectoral muscle, the one without his teeth imprints, and dragged the knife across almost the entire expanse of it. He watched with fascination, his hands as steady as a surgeon’s, as warm, slightly-tanned flesh parted under his blade, opening a wound that was considerably deeper than the one on Steve’s cheek that had already stopped bleeding. He distantly heard Steve hiss at the pain.

Bucky watched as blood seeped out of the wound none too slowly, trickling down towards Steve’s upper abdomen, beads of bright crimson dripping down. Steve was panting again and he didn’t want to admit why. The adrenaline that was kicking in from the pain was doing what he wanted it to do. It was giving him a rush, furthering his arousal and making his body hyper-sensitive. There was a difference between pain in a fight and pain like this. He liked the pain like this, a lot, and while he hadn’t experienced it before to this degree nor in this manner, it hadn’t been Bucky above him.

And maybe Bucky was fucked up, really fucked up, but he looked so good, his body still young and more able than ever, and Steve could feel him so hard against his stomach. Steve was just as hard and he was torn between shame and liberation. He was ashamed that the pain, that this dark situation, turned him on so much. But at the same time, it was liberating. He could let go of everything, all the shit in his life, and just let Bucky take control. He would do whatever Bucky said, give up everything that he could, because this was Bucky, and as much as he needed it, Bucky needed it more.

Bucky dragged the fingers of his real hand through the blood on Steve’s chest, spreading it around, playing with it as he painted his skin. He leaned down, licking more of Steve’s blood. He didn’t know why he was so compelled to do it, just knowing that it was a deep-seeded need that he felt he’d had forever, back longer than he could remember. Steve was slightly disturbed by Bucky taking in his blood but he forgot he’d ever thought about it when Bucky was suddenly kissing him hard again. 

Steve didn’t waste any time, knowing he would only be kissed right now when it was Bucky’s choice. He moaned into his mouth, licking his tongue and taking everything he could. “Please,” he murmured against Bucky’s lips. “I want more,” he begged as Bucky’s teeth worried his lip. He moved his mouth over to Steve’s neck, sucking dark marks onto his skin as his metal arm moved, fingers quickly making their way down Steve’s body. They were between Steve’s legs when he jerked back from Bucky hard, forcing Bucky to look at him. “As much as I want that, I really don’t want you to rip me open.” And he hoped Bucky didn’t want that either. “My bedroom, go in the night stand. There’s a bottle of lube.”

Bucky looked at him for a long enough time that Steve started to grow very worried that he was abou t to be torn open from the inside out. But Bucky suddenly rose, quickly coming back with the lube Steve had. Steve watched him pour it all over his metal hand and Steve realized fully that this would not be like the very few other times he’d had someone else’s fingers inside him. The lube wouldn’t absorb into Bucky’s hand. The fingers inside him would be unforgiving and hard, more powerful than anything he’d ever felt. That excited him to a degree he knew he shouldn’t feel and he didn’t care. He wanted it all.

When the first finger was pressed into him, he gasped. It was colder than he had thought it was going to be and he hadn’t really been prepared for how the metal would feel. He’d had a few inanimate objects in him before being that he’d wanted Bucky for so long, but they hadn’t been articulated or even somewhat prehensile. This, that metal inside him, was something he wanted so badly even though he hadn’t thought about it until just now, and didn’t give a damn that it was kind of messed up.

That finger inside him was what he’d always wanted and yet nothing like he’d imagined. It was long and thick, like Bucky’s real fingers, but it wasn’t soft. Steve watched Bucky stare between his legs intently as he moved his finger in and out very slowly. He could see the effort straining in every muscle of Bucky’s body to hold back. They both knew what was going through Bucky’s mind. “Don’t hurt him too much.”

Just when Steve thought he would never get more, Bucky pulled his finger out and pressed a second finger in with it. Steve felt a little stupid for being shocked every time Bucky touched him, but this was highly unusual in every way. Usually, two fingers would pinch together as much as they could with something so tight surrounding them. But these fingers were all metal, and there was no give. They were as wide as they were and there was no changing that.

But Steve didn’t mind. In fact, he was starting to roll his hips down onto the fingers slowly thrusting into him, his eyes closed as they turned him on almost too much. This was wrong on every level except that this was Bucky, and both of those reasons made Steve so hard. Bucky watched him as Steve pushed his body down as far as he could while bound onto his fingers.

Bucky couldn’t feel sensation in his metal arm in any way. The technology was only slightly less advanced than that. But this wasn’t the first time he’d been in this position. He watched his partner’s body react, looking for any signs of pain that may be caused unintentionally. He watched Steve’s body slowly move, his form tight with need, trying to pull as much pleasure into himself as possible.

Every minute that Bucky continued to watch him, more fractions of memories about Steve and himself came back. Some were small things, like watching Steve smile at him. Others were just emotions like joy or the misery of unrequited feelings. It didn’t matter. He needed this, Steve needed this, and Steve wanted to give him this.

He pressed a third finger in and Steve let out a needy whine that neither of them had really been expecting, Steve’s eyes shooting open to look at Bucky. But his eyes weren’t full of embarrassment. He wanted Bucky to know exactly what he was doing to him, and he knew Bucky knew. There was nothing Steve could hide, the muscles of his body contracting and releasing as he moved and pleasure filled him. Steve was surprised when Bucky’s real hand palmed over his cock as if he’d forgotten about it until now. But all he got was a little sensation before it was taken away again.

“More,” Steve demanded lowly. Bucky reached forward again to stroke his cock but stopped when Steve shook his head. “No, more fingers,” he said very clearly. Bucky looked at him with an expression that was very worried, something Steve hadn’t seen in a very long time. He watched Bucky look down between them as he seemed to try to figure out what he should do, if this was right.

“It’s going to hurt,” Bucky finally said in a very matter-of-fact tone, not seeming to care either way.

Steve looked at him, taking a small breath because he knew Bucky was giving him final say on how this went. But Steve was undeterred. “This isn’t my first time.”

Bucky looked at him in a way that Steve could see emotions pass over him. Haunted. Angry. Jealous. Aroused. Determined. Bucky looked down at Steve, meeting his eyes. “Mine neither.” He did the courtesy of folding in his fingers as much as he could before pressing four into Steve. He hadn’t realized how hard he was breathing until he heard Steve cry out in pleasure and he had to lick his lips to keep his mouth from getting any dryer.

In Bucky’s fractured memories, he knew well that this was not the first time he’d had sex nor was it his first time with a man nor was it his first time using his metal arm in this manner. But this was fresh in his brain, memories that were sticking as they were being created. He committed every gasp and moan and flush of Steve’s body to his brain, forcing with everything he had for them to stay. Because in the end, sex was fantastic, but all he really needed was this man beneath him, the man that was pulling his past and present to the forefront of his mind in an attempt to create one singular consciousness.

He watched Steve take his four fingers and Bucky was more than impressed. Little memories flickered, telling him he had wanted this in his past, not like now with his new arm, but for Steve to want it this badly. And he was sure Steve was uncomfortable or even in some pain, but he also seemed to be experiencing a lot of pleasure. He could tell by the way Steve was panting, his breaths hitching, never getting truly enough air in his lungs, that he was adjusting to the large intrusion. And he was right, and Steve loved the sudden stretch and slow burn that started in his ass and filled the rest of his body.

He gasped as Bucky shallowly thrust his fingers in and out, leaning forward to toy with Steve’s clavicle with his teeth. “This is how you were meant to be,” he said deeply. “All mine, a slave to my every whim and desire.” Bucky licked a slow trail across Steve’s neck, nibbling harshly at his other collar bone. “But you love it so much. You’re desperate, and you want more.” He rose up slightly so he could look Steve in the face. “Say it. Say what you want.”

Steve looked at him with hazy eyes, showing that he was overwhelmed but not in any way wanting this to stop. He would give and take anything from Bucky, but he was also the one that was driving this venture, allowing Bucky to do these things even as he was chained to the beam. His wrists were starting to chaff as he kept subconsciously trying to reach forward and touch Bucky, even though he was more than happy to be bound.

“I want it all. I want you,” Steve said very clearly. Bucky watched Steve close his eyes and hum, his hips rolling as Bucky palmed over his weeping cock again. “And are you saying you want more of this?” He asked, curling his fingers inside Steve, watching him look up at him again and nod.

Bucky slowly pulled his fingers out, caving in his hand as much as he could before slowly reintroducing it into Steve’s body. He watched Steve shake and cry out when he breached him with his last knuckles, the widest part of his hand. It was a serious stretch, but Steve’s body wasn’t fighting him as if this was the first time he’d done this. Steve had obviously had practice with this, and Bucky wondered if it had been with himself or with others. But it didn’t matter, because right now Steve was entirely his.

He pushed his hand in up to the wrist and while Steve kept his hips mostly still, the rest of his body writhing with the sensations coursing through him. It was too much, too much of a stretch and too much pleasure, and he felt like he might lose it, but it was exactly what he wanted. Bucky hefted one of Steve’s legs over his shoulder, getting him better access, and slowly moved his hand within him, gently thrusting and curling his fingers. Even though they were metal, his fingers were very agile.

He took up Steve’s cock with his free hand and started stroking him to push more pleasure into him. Bucky reveled in the feeling of hot, hard, real flesh in his hand, feeling Steve in a way he’d always wanted to, watching him come undone beneath him. Steve was staring up, unseeing, breathing heavily mixing in with moans and whimpers at everything that was being done to him. He was dripping on his stomach, dripping down Bucky’s real hand, but nowhere ready to release. 

He was rolling his hips now along with the movements of Bucky’s hand, and Steve was so eager that it was a little surprising to both of them. This was how Bucky had always wanted him, and this was how Steve had always needed Bucky’s attention. And Bucky wanted more, maybe too much. All these dark fantasies he’d had about Steve so long ago were coming forth and he was struggling to deny some of them, just on the very fact that he couldn’t drag this out as long as he wanted to, that they would have to do this again to satisfy them both and that fact was very comforting.

Bucky slowly removed his metal hand, feeling Steve’s hips drop slightly from the tense position they had been in. He could easily see that Steve’s body was very well lubricated since none of the lube had absorbed into his metal hand and had all taken to Steve’s insides. Removing his hand from Steve’s cock, he grabbed the leg hung over his shoulder and pulled his body flush against it. He watched Steve look up at him desperately as he teased him with the head of his cock, Steve trying so hard to stay still and be good as he was played with.

He finally felt Bucky slide into him, huffing out a loud breath of air as Bucky groaned, the first truly involuntary noise he’d made. Until this point, it had been entirely about Steve. Now this could be about both of them. Bucky rolled his hips forward, getting settled as he secured Steve’s thigh against his chest. He began to thrust into Steve hard, moving his hips seamlessly as he stared intently at the man beneath him.

Even though he’d just had his whole hand in Steve, his body had contracted enough that it was still tight, still enough to bring them both aching pleasure from the slow, rough slides in and out. It should have been weighing on Steve just how long he had waited to do this, how desperately he had wanted Bucky to fuck him for so many years, but he couldn’t think about much past the sensations his body was experiencing. His core was so tight, and even as Bucky was driving into him hard enough to thud loudly against his body, Steve wrapped his other leg around his waist, pulling him closer.

Bucky rose up a bit on his knees, Steve’s hips lifting into the air with him as he continued to sheath himself into the man below him. He easily held Steve’s weight as if he were still ninety pounds. But Bucky didn’t lament not having the old Steve, or desire the body of this new Steve. All he cared about was that it was Steve, and that if he hurt Steve the way they both wanted, Steve’s new body could take it.  
Steve seemed to be just as invested in this as he was, and maybe they were doing it for different reasons or maybe even the same reasons. All that mattered was that they finally had this, this intimacy with each other that they had desperately craved. And maybe it wasn’t loving, gentle caresses, but it was still full of love. Love wasn’t always sweet. Sometimes love was pain, in any form.

Steve’s eyes were hazy, but they were riveted to Bucky’s, watching his every move. Bucky may have been trying to create new memories, but Steve was doing the same for his own reasons. They needed to feed into their combined fantasies that had been festering since either of them could remember, more or less. The list of everyone Steve had ever been with had always been compared to the fantasy of Bucky. For Bucky, his list was much the same, and when he had been remade, he had known there was something greater he had strived for in partners.

Blue eyes stared into blue eyes and for a flicker of a moment, it was the past again. They were who they had been, with smaller ideas of anger and hate, but much bigger ideas of love. Bucky could feel it seeping into him, the warmth that was the memory of how much he could feel, how much he could love.

His eyes went wide when he realized Steve’s had done the same, quickly trying to figure out why until he realized his hand was wrapped tightly around Steve’s throat and he couldn’t really breathe. He paused, pulling his hand away with shock, resting it on Steve’s chest, apologies that he didn’t know how to make on his lips.

“No, please, more,” Steve begged, and Bucky had to look at him for a minute to understand what he was talking about. But like old times, he felt it and moved to accommodate him. He began fucking Steve again, slow and deep, as his hand reached forward and wrapped around Steve’s neck, metal fingers tightening. He applied just enough pressure to be threatening, not to actually choke Steve to the point of unconsciousness or worse.

Steve’s already labored breath was hitching every time he tried to pull more air into his lungs. The grasp of Bucky’s hand was just enough to make him have to really work to breathe and it was too fucking good, so dangerous and exactly what he needed. “Harder,” he begged, feeling Bucky begin to slam into him quickly before the end of the plea even left his diaphragm. Bucky’s thrusts were flawless and rough in the way Steve had always dreamed of, in a way that no other lover had ever been capable of.

And Bucky was trying with all he had not to shake, not to lose it too soon because he finally had Steve the way he wanted him, beautiful, panting, so tight around him, and so very wanton. Maybe people worshiped Steve as some super hero, but to Bucky, Steve was more than his everything. Steve was his king.

“Oh, fuck! Please, Bucky!” Steve moaned quite loudly, and Bucky could feel him tightening around him, quivering with impending release. He bent Steve in half a little further and pounded into him relentlessly, staring down at his face to watch all the pleasure play out. Steve was so close he couldn’t even look at Bucky, or at least, couldn’t really see. The heat grew so hot in his stomach, burning through him like molten lead before it shot straight through every nerve of his body, sending an overload of pleasure through him.

He started to cum and felt Bucky’s metal fingers tighten around his throat, filling him with even more ecstasy in his climax. Steve screamed out into the room, his fingers digging into the concrete of the support column he was bound to. He could have easily broken the cuffs but neither of them wanted that. He let out shuddering moans and whimpers as he came all over his stomach.

He was almost too sensitive as Bucky began to fuck him even faster, too fast and hard for anyone else to take. Steve was trying with everything he had to watch as Bucky fell, and while it felt like he’d been watching for several long minutes, it had only been a few seconds. Bucky drew in a sharp breath, unconsciously moving his metal hand to grip Steve’s shoulder as he pushed into him all the way, shaking and moaning loudly over and over as he came inside his best friend, the literal light of his life.

Bucky fell forward, bracing himself on either side of Steve with his head dropped onto his chest as he tried to catch his breath, still shuddering hard. He’d never felt anything this intensely that was good. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt anything close to pleasure.

“Ahhh, Steve…” He murmured. It was the first time since 1945 that either of them had heard Bucky say that name, to acknowledge Steve Rogers. And Bucky hadn’t really known his name, not until it suddenly bubbled up from the depths of his unconscious. But it felt so right to say it, like a sigh of relief he had been holding on to for over half a century.

“Bucky,” Steve said softly, trying to gently coax the man over him. “Rip off the cuffs. I need to touch you.” Bucky looked up at him slowly, regarding him for a minute before nodding, as if now tamed. He stretched and reached up behind the support beam with his metal arm, crushing the chain links between the cuffs holding Steve in his hand.

Steve’s hands were immediately around him, holding him definitely but cautiously, as if he were still afraid. Bucky looked down at him, feeling emotions bubble up inside of him at the sight and touch of Steve. His flushed cheeks, sweat-slicked body, and burning warmth permeated his senses. He slowly leaned down, pressing his lips to Steve’s in a way that was not hesitant but still seeking permission. He felt Steve’s fingers slowly slide up his back and delve into his hair, keeping him close in an intimate way that said he wanted him there if that was what Bucky wanted also. They were quiet as lips and tongues moved together while their bodies began to calm.

Bucky slowly parted from Steve, separating their lips and hips before laying down over him again, resting his head over his arms on Steve’s stomach so that they could look at each other. He was still really, really fucked up, and they both knew it, but in just this moment, he was James Buchanan Barnes again, and while that still involved him being the man he now was, he was also the man he had been.

“Hiya, Bucky,” Steve said softly with an affectionate tone, as if greeting his friend for the first time in a very long time.

Bucky looked at him for a good minute. His face was utterly blank before it began to change into contentment. After a little longer, his lips curved slightly and even his eyes shined bright with a small smile.

“Hi, Steve.”

 

 

END


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